Alternative Ending: Julius Lives
by IndigoStarshine
Summary: What if the final events in Scorpia Rising happened differently? What if Alex made a different choice for himself? How would the end result? Character death.
1. Alex Decides to Die

Alex Rider ran through the streets of Cairo. It was dark, raining and he could barely see where he was going but he didn't care, all he cared about was catching Julius. He killed Jack. He had to pay for what he did. Alex felt rage and anger burning through all his insides like poison. He was in so much pain. He was crying uncontrollably but the rain and his anger made him unaware of it.

Jack was one of the only adults Alex could ever fully trust and rely on. Jack was like his big sister and even a mother at times. She was gone forever and would never come back.

He could faintly hear Julius laughing. He had taken his revenge and was gloating in his success. Alex was responsible for the death of his 'father' and as a result, he had killing someone important to Alex. It didn't matter that Julius needed psychological help; he would always be a monster. Jack was different; she was a good person while Dr Grief wasn't.

Julius was fast and fit from extensive physical exercise, but yet again, so was Alex. They continued down the streets, passing people and turning around street corners. Everything other than Julius seemed like a blur to Alex.

Then in a fast motion, Julius was hit by a taxi and hit the ground with a sharp thud. He was at Alex's mercy but at that critical moment Alex had calmed down and wanted to leave Julius on the street to die alone. It all changed when Julius held out a gun. In a knee jerk response, Alex brought out his own gun and pointed it at Julius.

Despite everything Julius was still laughing and Alex could hear him joke: "You couldn't kill me, Alex. We look too alike."

Through the heavy rain Alex could not see his face but involuntarily, he could picture it. It would be just like his: the same blond hair; the same brown eyes; the same facial features; the same characteristic unnaturalness that came with having too many traumatic experiences at a young age. Julius was an artificially created Alex, a diabolically evil Alex. He and Alex could be twins or even the same person with Julius being his dark side coming out as a separate physical entity.

He felt anger at MI6 now over being used for their spy plans. They were responsible for what was happening and Alex was nothing but an insignificant pawn in their plans for the greater good. None of this would have happened if it wasn't for them. He wasn't supposed to be here. No kid should have to point a gun at another with the intent to kill. He was meant to be with a family: preparing for school tomorrow, watching TV, complaining about doing his homework, doing other things that a fifteen year old would normally do and be concerned with. MI6 had taken that away from him.

Alex was thinking out of loss and anger. Pain clouded his thoughts, raced his heart and throbbed through his veins. Even if MI6 allowed him to leave, the legacy they had left him with would last his whole life. Alex felt that he was encased in a cruel world and he wanted to get out. He wanted his life to end.

Alex replied blankly, "You're wrong, you mean nothing to me."

'_Nothing means anything to me anymore'_, he thought as he placed the gun to his temple. Julius wasn't laughing anymore, his face contorted into an expression of surprise. This was obviously not going according to Julius' plan. Julius wanted to keep tormenting Alex and this wasn't going to be possible if Alex killed himself. Alex could see Julius lower his gun a little.

'_Death will be nothing as well; I'll just leave my body and never come back. Julius can have this world all to himself. He deserves it, he really does.'_

He took one last good look at the world around him; it was dark, cold, raining and large enough to swallow him whole without a second thought. The last thing Alex would ever see was Julius pointing a gun at him. The city people were oblivious and apathetic to Alex's pain. Cars kept driving past and umbrellas shielded pedestrians on the pathway from rain. They didn't care that two fifteen year old boys were pointing loaded weapons at each other.

Sabina and the other people he loved would stay in this cruel world but they could go on without him. If there was an afterlife and if God did exist he hoped that there would be mercy, love, kindness and all of the other things he desperately needed…

BANG!


	2. Julius Alone

All Julius could feel was shock. He had no idea that Alex could do something like this. He forgot everything else around him; the cold rain and the pain caused by the accident. He should have been happy that Alex was gone. He should have been feeling triumph and pride but now all he could feel was a peculiar kind of emptiness. There was still a boiling abyss of rage inside him that didn't instantly die with Alex. Without being able to kill Alex, his life seemed incomplete and purposeless.

Through the dim light, Alex's body was visible as a silhouette; lying on the road with the gun still clenched firmly in his hand. Julius could see crimson blood seeping its way onto the city street and pouring into the gutters. It wasn't long before the street had a reddish tint under the streetlights when it should have been merely the colour of the yellow streetlight. He remembered his father telling him that shooting the head released a lot of blood.

People nearby had heard the gunshot over the heavy rain and took notice of the situation. There was confusion and horror at the sight of teenage boy shooting himself in the street. He could hear commotion of people getting out of their cars and to see what happened. People were finding flashlights. Julius knew that it wasn't long before people would panic and call the authorities.

Julius' brain registered that he had to leave; he ignore his current pain and limped onto the streets of Cairo. He had to go on the streets of Cairo alone, hiding from SCORPIA and other authorities. He had failed and Abdul-Aziz Al-Rahim would not keep him as an apprentice. He would be used as an experiment in one of the experiments if he did go back. If he was caught by the authorities they would institutionalise him for the rest of his life with a psychiatrist who would be more brutal with him than Dr Flint.

In the midst of the chaos that followed Alex's suicide Julius disappeared. He had nothing but his gun and bullets, his wet clothes and a small amount of Egyptian currency. He was also injured and cold, he felt that he could die of hypothermia. There was nothing he could do about his situation. He was more alone than ever.


	3. Dilemma in MI6 Headquarters

Alan Blunt forced himself to thoroughly read and sign a few papers before pouring himself a cup of champagne. SCORPIA's plans to blackmail the British government into returning the Elgin Marbles had been foiled by their best and coincidentally youngest agent, Alex Rider.

The boy hadn't been found yet and was still presumed to be wandering the streets of Cairo aimlessly, but Alan presumed that he was alright. He had the Devil's luck and resourcefulness beyond his years, that wouldn't change. He would just be a bit traumatised after the death of his beloved Carer Jack Starbright and of witnessing the suicide of Julius Grief, the clone of Dr Hugo Grief that had been surgically altered to look exactly like Alex.

Alan automatically accepted that it was Julius that had commit suicide two nights ago on the streets of Cairo because the psychiatrist reports on Julius during his stay in Gibraltar suggested that he would be unstable enough to do such a thing. He had never previously considered Alex's mental health or thought about the damage he might be causing Alex.

Meanwhile, Alan could afford to have a quick celebration with the trivial success in their long term struggle with SCORPIA. It was his favourite, rosé champagne made by Laurent-Perrier. However, before he could take a sip, Mrs Jones burst into the room. She was crying miserably with tissues in one hand and a folder in the other.

"Mrs Jones-"

"How can you celebrate at a time like this!" She wailed, "The autopsy reports and DNA test have come back - it was Alex that had commit suicide on the streets of Cairo not Julius!"

Alan felt a thud in his stomach, the worst had eventually happened to Alex and it was entirely his fault. It was him that had hired the sniper to attack Alex's school. It was he who decided to involve him in all of the missions and it was him that originally blackmailed Alex by threatening to cancel Jack Starbright's visa from the very start. Nether-the-less, Alan was determined to keep his composure. He could always pride himself in keep calm in the most confronting situations, including situations like this. He was a cold and calculating man.

Mrs Jones however was not reluctant to show emotion. Being a mother herself, she always had a bit of a soft spot for Alex and resented his usefulness in missions. She dropped the folder in his in-box like it was something filthy and was eager to get it away from her.

All Alan could bring himself to say was, "I'm sorry, Tulip. I really am."

She shook her head, "That's not good enough."

He thought about Alex for a minute. The boy had been trained to be a spy for most of his life and his family had an extensive tradition of being spies, most of which had died long before he came into existence. Who would they give the body to? He had no family of his own to speak of, unless you could count the distant cousins who would have never heard of him before in their lives. The only people he could think of were the Pleasure family.

Overall, the boy had literally saved the world numerous times; the price of his individual life was greatly overshadowed by the lives of millions perhaps billions. His loss was rational and justifiable. Regardless, Alan still felt absolutely awful. His desire for champagne had died and probably would not come back for a long time. He could only remind himself that sometimes the best option was not necessarily the one that would make him sleep easy at night.

"You know what Alan, I'm out. I'm sick of this job. It's now cost me more than I can give anymore. I can cope with the death of an adult agent who willingly put their life on the line but not a fourteen year old that had been constantly blackmailed into doing our biddings. This job has cost me my kids, my husband and any kind of life. I can't honestly say that I'm really doing it for a good cause anymore. I'm out of here and I don't want to be your successor. I don't want to be remembered as being responsible for the suicide of a teenage boy. It's not a reputation that I want to deal with during my time as the head of MI6 anyway."

"What do you expect me to do about it?"

"For a start, show some emotion!" She started waving her hands around, "And another thing, you can deal with tracing Julius Grief by yourself. I don't want anything to do with it all anymore. Goodbye."

Alan didn't even try to stop her as she packed up all her personal belongings in her office and put them in the car. Alan didn't want to justify the suicide of a fourteen year old before retirement. Besides, there was nothing that would really make it better. Would the Pleasure family want his ashes? Surely MI6 could afford a small funeral for the boy, attended by his school friends and other people who knew him. It was a very grim thing to consider.

It made him wonder whether Mrs Jones would buy another pet cat and name it Alex in his honour - knowing her she probably would. Maybe MI6 could dedicate something to him, the boy was quite a hero and it would be an insult just to have a pet cat named after him.

Alan Blunt stopped staring out his office window and ordered an assistant to throw out the bottle of expensive and exquisite champagne. He felt too sick with himself to drink it. Regardless of this, he had so much to do, so he continued with his work as if nothing had happened to disturb him one iota.


	4. Reflections

Julius walked around the more touristy parts of Cairo desperate to blend in with other foreigners. It had been three weeks since he had been wandering the streets alone. He had managed to escape being capture and an amount of trouble.

The backpack on his bag held everything he needed to survive, all of it stolen or gained through other ill means. He wore a Hawaiian shirt that he had stolen the day before, nice teal shorts he won in a knife fight and perfectly good sandals that were lying in the gutter. He wore a hat big enough to hide his face from potential cameras. He looked like an average tourist and real tourists often didn't hesitate to approach him for help and assistance. The directions he would give at a price (he would usually steal small change or other items from their pockets). He would obviously lie if they inquired about his parents.

He had no trouble being on his own, in fact, he relished it. He liked deciding where he would go and what he wanted to do. He also enjoyed not being observed every minute of the day. The survival tactics taught to him by his father and Mrs Stellenbosch were immensely helpful. The only down side to his new life of hiding was always having to find a good place to sleep when he needed to. He knew it was possible that his misdeeds would perhaps attract the attention of police but that didn't really occur to him as a problem, as long as he could get away with it he would.

There was something that disturbed Julius though: his life had no purpose. All his life he had previously had a purpose. He was a clone of his father. He would inherit a large amount of money as a result of the Gemini Project and use it to shape the world into Dr Grief's liking. That was ruined by Alex and MI6. After that, his goal was to make Alex suffer and destroy him. Something was wrong; there was still rage inside him, even after Alex had taken the coward's way out.

'_It might be disappointment that he turned out to be such coward,'_ Julius mused as he eyed a weapons stall in the marketplace, _'Only weak, pathetic people commit suicide, father and Mrs Stellenbosch had even said so themselves. The person to end my father's life - as one of the most brilliant scientists the world had ever seen- was a coward.'_

After he had stolen a reasonable Glock and a few dozen bullets, he continued to inconspicuously go down the street. The streets were packed with people coming out from every angle. How he hated the local people. All of them were obviously inferior to people of European descent in every way.

It reminded him of a joke he had come up with while thinking of ways to escape this forsaken place. He would dress up as a veiled woman; airport security would not be allowed to search him and the passport photo of one of these women would be of her in a veil. Of course he would have to fake womanly parts – like a stuffed bra, a padded bottom and would even have to practise walking in a womanly way – and that would be hard to get past screening. He found the idea amusing although he would have to think of something cleverer to try and go into another country overseas but if nothing else was available, that would be a very last resort. He began to grin, the expression felt alien to his facial muscles.

He noticed a shop in the distance that looked poorly attended. A perfect target. It seemed to sell crystal and glass ware. He could perhaps to steal some and then sell it largely overpriced in the markets himself. He sneaked inside and he took off his hat as they would not be permitted in a shop like this.

To his horror Alex was standing right in front of him. Alex was not dead, but alive. There was a shocked expression on Alex's face. He had not expected to see Julius. The same wildfire swelled up inside him and burnt all though his insides. Julius swiftly brought out the Glock and shot wildly at Alex. He glanced left to see another Alex and shot him too. And another. Then yet another. There were five more Alexs after that.

Then he heard a whimper, "Please stop. I beg you for the love of Allah."

It was the shopkeeper who although Julius could not see, he could hear through ringing ears. He was underneath the shop counter, hiding. He would not shoot the shopkeeper, not without some sort of reason at least. Julius saw broken bits of mirror and crystal glistening on the floor like chunks of diamond.

Julius vividly remembered that he watched Alex die. He had a vivid mental image of Alex's body out in the rain. His brain had tricked him into believing it was Alex when it was only his own reflection. Even after his death Alex would always haunt Julius. He was trapped in Alex's body forever.

He sprinted out of the shop, eager to flee the scene. There was commotion on the street. People were distressed by such a scene but he couldn't really hear them, his ears were still stinging with the sounds of gunshots.


	5. A Funeral for the Life of a Spy

There was a wave devastation after Alex's death. Although Alex did not have any kind of living family; he had made lots of friends and touched the lives of many people. At school he was well liked and popular. There were even plenty of people from the missions. Not to mention the people that knew him through other places like sport.

If Alan Blunt had been brutally honest with himself, he wouldn't have come. Alex didn't deserve to have a man that had used him for his own means farewell his life. He didn't like being blamed over Alex's suicide. He liked to believe that ultimately, everyone chose their own actions regardless of their treatment from other people. It was ultimately Alex who made the decision to kill himself.

'_I can't deny that using him was a mistake that ultimately caused him to end his own life,'_ Alan admitted to himself, _'Even though the benefits outweighed the cost.'_

Only a few other people from MI6 had come to the funeral. They went under the guise that they were friends of Alex's uncle and knew him by extension. To his biggest surprise Wolf was there. From what Alan Blunt could tell; Wolf was quite sad that Alex died even though he did admit to being a little nasty to Alex while training. Besides himself and Wolf, there was also a rather glum Mrs Jones with her new Labrador puppy that she had christened 'Alex' and Smithers dressed in a black tuxedo that looked misplaced on him.

None of them wanted to talk to each other but most of all to him. They all seemed to be unhappy with him. Wolf looked like he just wanted to pay his respects and leave. Smithers gave his boss a polite but cold nod. It was abnormal to see Smithers in a tuxedo. Tulip Jones was still infuriated with him and was making a consistent effort to avoid him.

He started making an effort to avoid her too, but not because of her. It was because of the dog - the dog with its light fur and large brown eyes. When he first saw the animal he felt uneasy. The dog's brown eyes met with his for only a second and glance away. It reminded him of the real Alex and how he would look at him, with distance and general dislike. He had never seriously thought about what happened after death. Yes, the body would stop functioning and start to decay but what happened to the integral parts of a person? He was probably just being paranoid for no good reason. It was funny how some of the simplest and silliest of things could unsettle him.

He watched as an Anglican minister went up to the church podium to give Alex a funeral sermon. Alex was baptised Anglican as a baby but Alan doubted that Alex had anything else to do with the religion in his life. It didn't matter whether Alex was a believer or not, he was dead and it was just a respectful thing.

Alan Blunt didn't listen to the sermon, his mind was too busy sorting out what to do in regards to Julius Grief. It was a mistake to send him to Gibraltar - he was still a child after all. After his isolated childhood in Point Blanc it would have been better to send him to a normal reform school like any other mentally disturbed teen– he would have met other teenagers and maybe had more progress.

He was always going to be a tricky one anyway; he had looked over reports on the other clones of Dr Grief and could only sigh. The ones that had more exposure to the outside world were generally better balanced mentally. Most had improved, even if only slightly and under heavy medication. The boys would have to be either institutionalised or medicated for the rest of their lives. The problem with Julius was that he was the doppelganger of a secret agent.

When he received a report the other day that Julius Grief had opened fire in a mirror and crystal shop in Cairo, it had deeply disturbed him. It was evident that the boy had avoided being killed by Razim for failing his part in the mission and was able to survive on his own. He secretly hoped that SCORPIA had managed to kill him. It would be one other thing they didn't have to worry about. Julius' presence in Cairo was already souring Britain's political relationship with Egypt and was another thing to take care of. They couldn't let the dangerous clone of Dr Hugo Grief go around as a dead British teenager, let alone top agent Alex Rider. They now had to send agents out to track him down but first they needed to get more information on him. He gathered his ideas on how to approach this. It wasn't long before he thought of a plan of attack.

When the sermon was finished, Alan planned to leave early and let Alex friends commemorate together alone without him. He had no reason to be there. He planned to leave quickly and quietly. He got his chance when there was a break before people would come up and give speeches.

Yet, as his work with MI6 had taught him long ago, things rarely always went exactly according to plan.

"Excuse me, but aren't you involved with Alex as a spy?" Asked a woman's voice very timidly.

He turned around to see the Pleasure family - Elizabeth, Edward and their fifteen year old daughter Sabina who Alex fancied. They all looked very distraught, but Sabina in particular looked quite distressed with red eyes.

"Yes, I am."

Edward Pleasure spoke, "We don't believe that Alex and Jack Starbright died as a result of a traffic accident. We know that MI6 has had something to do with his death. No one believes that their deaths were an accident."

He knew Edward Pleasure was a journalist, so he had to respond carefully. It took a while before he answered, "Yes, he and Miss Starbright both died on a mission I'm afraid. Their deaths were purely accidental. I'm very sorry."

He then turned and walked away before they could ask any more questions. He didn't want to cause a scene. From behind, he could hear young Sabina Pleasure start to cry as he left the church.


	6. Proposals and Orders

Julius opened his eyes half expecting to be dead, but alas, he wasn't. Instead, he was lying on an ersatz mattress in pain. It didn't take him long to realise that he was in a makeshift basement; above him he could see slithers of artificial light shining through what he presumed were wooden floor boards .He could hear feet creaking the floor boards and people speaking to each other in Arabic above him. He had no way of telling whether it was night or day. Being held hostage by the grubby locals might possibly be worse than death. He only hoped that he had not been caught by SCORPIA.

The last thing he could remember was being in a knife fight against a gang of street kids. He would have beaten them if there wasn't so many of them lunging at him at one time like feral monkeys. It caused him some confusion. Why didn't they kill him already?

He had nothing better to do but to lie there in silence. As much as he wanted to, he was still too weak and injured to try to break out. There were also tight chains attached to his ankles and wrists that were attached to the ground he was lying on. He was cold, thirsty, hungry and injured. If he didn't die of a wound infection there was always dehydration, starvation and hypothermia.

It was a while before someone would switch on a light bulb. The bright light temporarily blinded him. He heard someone walking down wooden stairs, humming absentmindedly as they came down. Julius turned his head to see a girl about his age come towards him holding a cup of water and a blanket. She was wearing an Islamic veil that only left her face visible, he forgot exactly what they were called.

With a gasp, she noticed that he was awake and called out. Surely enough two older boys had come down – Julius recognised them as the two of the boys he had fought against. He was sure that the Arab boys were the girl's older brothers. They circled around his mattress in a vulture-like manner, glaring down at him with eyes on faces that he could not see in the dim light. It didn't intimidate Julius, to the contrary, it somewhat amused him.

"Hello Alien, we have been waiting for you to wake up." One of them said.

"Why am I not dead? How can you speak English?" Julius asked them feebly, it embarrassed him to be so weak.

"Yes, we have thought about killing you but we then decided that you were too talented to kill outright. We need a fighter like you. So we are giving you the option to either join us or die."

"It's also none of your business why we can speak English. We do what we must to survive." Replied the other in a more aggressive tone, also giving him a sharp kick.

"By joining us you will live and prosper. If not we will kill you right now. If you betray us then we will also kill you, but more painfully and slowly. The choice is yours, Alien."

Julius was instantly angered by the awful nickname they had given him but said nothing; he wasn't in a position where he could fight. Obviously he would have no choice but to agree with them, but he was sure that he could abandon them in no time and go back to his free delinquency on the streets.

* * *

It was the first time in a couple of weeks that Alan Blunt had put aside time for the Julius Grief case. He had been so busy with other affairs, but this case had a habit of sticking to the back of his mind. As usual he would first look over the files to make sure all information was accounted for. Alan Blunt then allowed for the boy to be sent in.

It instantly occurred to him that if they wanted to be able to find Julius they needed more intimate details on his background. Dr Flint failed to break through the boy's barriers during counselling, so they would need to extract information from someone else. Someone who had known the inner workings of Point Blanc and knew the kind of skills that Julius would have been taught.

Out of all the clones of Dr Grief, Napoleon Grief was deemed to be the one that they could trust the most. Even before laying eyes on the boy Alan knew that he could only trust him as far as he could throw him. Napoleon was a very last resort, a _very _last resort. The clock was ticking and they had to find Julius soon, for Alex's sake at least. Napoleon was perhaps their only chance at finding him.

"What is it that you want with me?" Napoleon had asked this question in an abrupt and cynical tone.

Standing in the doorway of his office was a tall, weedy, blond and menacing teenage boy. Napoleon Grief had all of the surgical modifications removed. He reminded Alan of the stereotypical teenager; clad in black from head to toe and his attitude was filled with angst.

Napoleon was sixteen and had spent two years impersonating Felix Johnson, the bratty and sociopathic son of a wealthy and powerful American couple. Felix Johnson died during his imprisonment in Point Blanc and his family made a request that Napoleon be reverted to looking like his natural self.

It was during his stay at the Johnson residence that he had a generally kind relationship with the Johnsons' unfortunate younger daughter, Alannah Johnson. He was only clone who had ever displayed any act of genuine kindness, even for a moment. His psychiatrist had also reported that he believed Napoleon did have some sort of conscience and was not a complete antisocial. Though it would have been considered unprofessional, the psychiatrist did note that he found the boy generally obnoxious.

"We want you to help us. Come take a seat." Alan Blunt gave a fake smile as an attempt of assurance or at least if you could say that Blunt was able to smile, it looked more like a wooden grimace. The boy almost threw himself on the chair, sitting in a rebelliously lax but stern way.

"It has to be a damn good reason," The adolescent said with a petulant roll of his eyes, "Otherwise, why would you import me from the US under the name Cedric Brendan Wilson? I was quite happy being on the other side of the North Atlantic Ocean."

"Yes it is. We want you to help us find your brother, he's lost."

Napoleon raised his eyebrows, "You must remember that I have fifteen of them. Which one and why?"

"We want you to help us to find Julius, your youngest brother. We will give you more information once you agree to help us."

It was then that Napoleon's face gave to an involuntary grimace. Obviously there wasn't much brotherly love between him and Julius. That was good thing for the mission.

"We'll give you almost anything you could possibly want; money, freedom, permanent and full British citizenship."

"Why would I want to become a citizen of this drab and cold country? Especially if I have to go by the name of Cedric Brendan Wilson. Besides, I'm quite happy being stateless at the moment and since my father's home country wants absolutely nothing to do with me; there isn't really anywhere I would really like to go. I'll do it only for freedom and money. I would like _lots_ of money."

An idea occurred to Alan; maybe he could find more ways to manipulate Napoleon Grief into working for MI6 in the future. He would definitely have the necessary skills for MI6's disposal and unlike Alex he didn't really have any family or friends, nobody would miss him at all if something bad happened to him.

Alan Blunt then proceeded to explain what had happened to Julius. He showed Napoleon pictures of Alex Rider and explained what had happened in Cairo.

"Well good, I'm glad the whelp died." Napoleon stated abruptly.

"Excuse me? Alex Rider was a good boy and largely missed. You should at least show respect for a dead person, even if you never knew them."

"That is your failure, not mine. I'm just glad that the boy who killed my father died. I'm also glad that it was Julius who was surgically altered to look like him and not any other of us. He was always my least favourite brother."

Alan didn't know what to say to this. To Napoleon Grief, Alex Rider would only be the boy who killed his father and nothing more. He didn't know Alex as a person and how much good he had achieved for the world. Again with the brotherly love, it now made him curious as to why Napoleon was displaying such animosity towards a boy who shared exactly the same DNA.

"We want you to help us find Julius. We want to know what your father trained you boys to do and generally, just all you know about Julius. He is very dangerous and it is in public interest that he is detained."

"Yes, I will help you find him and I will tell you pretty much everything. The truth needs to come out anyway. Besides, society really would be better off without him. I also really want one other thing besides money."

"What's that?"

"I want to go to Egypt to find him with MI6."

Allowing that would be against his better judgement, even mentioning it was utterly unorthodox and insane.

"Yes, we allow for that." He had to forcefully make the words come out of his mouth.

"Just tell me one thing, Napoleon-" Alan decided to make this a bit of a test, "Why do you hate Julius so much?"

This made Napoleon shuffle uncomfortably in his chair, "I've always disliked Julius, even when we were both really little. He was always the one who would try the hardest to please our father. When I was eleven and he was nine, a poor trespasser was caught on our property. Dad wanted me to shot him but I couldn't do it, so he got Julius to do it instead. Julius then shot at my feet for running away. He even taunted me about it for as long as I stayed at Point Blanc. I remember on one occasion he came into my room late at night and scratched my feet with a rusty nail because I purposely broke his toy train a couple of days before. I was lucky not to contract tetanus. At least Dad gave him a good couple of whacks for it."

Napoleon Grief then took off his black leather shoes and socks. Surely enough, Alan could see that there were multiple scratches on his feet. It looked rather nasty but not enough to impediment his ability to walk or run. Alan would have rather believed that such things did not happen to children, especially being forced to shoot a person.

"Ok, now you will return back to your hotel room. MI6 will collect you when you are needed. Do not leave the room for any reason other than an emergency."

Napoleon finished putting on his shoes and agreed. Alan Blunt then watched him leave the office.

'_What a perplexing boy_,' Alan thought to himself and frowned, '_I don't think we will trust him at all, yet again, we have no choice_.'

* * *

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT IT WASN'T JULIUS THAT DIED! YOU MEAN THAT LITTLE FREAK IS STILL OUT THERE? WHY THE HELL DID IT TAKE YOU SO LONG TO FIND OUT!"

Abdul-Aziz Al-Rahim was now riddled with rage upon hearing that they had held a funeral service for Alex Rider in England and that it was Alex that had commit suicide, not Julius. DNA testing had ultimately proven it a couple of weeks ago. An informer had found out. For someone who didn't feel that much emotion, he was currently seething from head to toe.

He vigorously threw the phone at the wall, smashing it into pieces. There was no doubt that the person on the other end was feeling rather glad about their decision to deliver the news from a distance. Rahim was known to be violent at messengers for no reason other than they had delivered bad news.

Rahim then pulled out another phone (he had several spare for this reason), feverishly punched in the emergency number and started to bark orders. He wanted Julius Grief found as soon as possible and even was willing to destroy Cairo in the process.


	7. Dreams

Abdul-Aziz Al-Rahim poured himself another cup of wine and went to sit in the living room. SCORPIA's last mission had not gone according to plan and Julius escaped. It was his responsibility to kill the brat once the job was done and so far he was unable to carry out this task. It was almost disappointment out of not being able to experimenting on the obnoxious brat and examining him as a cadaver.

The clone of Grief was still roaming around Cairo, as far as he knew, and causing chaos. Rahim had heard that the boy had opened fire in a mirror merchant's shop. He could not believe that his henchmen still hadn't managed to bring Julius to him. Rahim often had to roll his eyes at their idiotic incompetence.

'_At least something good came out of it,'_ Rahim thought to himself as he downed the last of his wine, _'The famous Alex Rider is now dead and six feet under.'_

Rahim then forgot about Julius Grief and concentrated his thoughts on Alex Rider. Knowing that Rider was dead made him smile, but knowing that Rider had shot in the head himself made him grin like a Cheshire cat.

The boy had been such a nuisance to SCORPIA that it soon became a top priority to kill him. He was the one to destroy Julia Rothman. Rahim did not believe in the existence of the supernatural in any way, shape or form but it was pretty improbable that a mere boy could be able to survive on his talent and skill alone. Still, Rahim thought that suicide was a good ending for the boy – it saved SCORPIA time and money. Sure, it wasn't uncommon for agents to develop mental illnesses like PTSD, depression, anxiety and psychosis due to their field work, but the fact that MI6 had warped the mind of a teenager to the point of suicide for their own benefit deserved a slow clap.

It had also occurred to him that Alex Rider had contributed to his work. When he was forced to watch his caretaker Jack Starbright die by being exploded at a switch by Julius Grief, Rider's vital signs had given clue to vast amounts of emotional pain and to Rahim's surprise it made the boy black out. It made him consider the potential of experimenting with emotional pain.

Rahim considered watching TV before remembering that he smashed the screen on his current television out of rage over something Rahim couldn't recall and had not bothered to buy another one.

'_Beep! Beep! Beep!….'_ Rahim's watch alarm had gone off and he finally had something to do.

A member of the Spanish Mafia had failed to pay his debt to SCORPIA in time and as anyone knows, SCORPIA never forgives or forgets. As assurance they had kidnapped his daughter and Rahim would be allowed to experiment on her if he failed. He wouldn't have been to hear her screaming and crying from where he was sitting, yet he was sure that the little girl would have tired herself out by now. He forgot exactly what her name was (Marine, Mariam, Marianne, Mariana, Marita, Marigold or something else on those lines) but that didn't matter. She would be contributing to his work and when he was done with her, her mutilated body would be presented to her father in a garbage bag.

Rahim quickly forgot about Grief and Rider to concentrate on his hobby for the time being. He wanted to start comparing the pain in young children to adults soon anyway. He hoped the girl would show similar trends to the other children.

* * *

_When he was asleep, Julius would have the same dreams over and over. Julius couldn't recall the last time he had experienced so many dreams in a row but assumed that the dreams were occurring because his mind didn't have much else to do. Besides the normal dreams experienced by adolescent boys, there were the ones about Alex. These dreams would usually include him trying to hunt down Alex only to find him gone._

_He had one dream where he was searching for him in a hall of mirrors, where it was hard to shoot the real Alex. Julius instantly knew he was in a dream because the mirrors always displayed him how he looked before his surgery, how he was supposed to look like. This dream was especially annoying as it was a reminder of how he opened fire in a shop. Every time he would shoot at Alex it would only shatter to be replaced by another. A taunting Alex would then run towards a light in the distance and never return._

_There was another dream where he was searching for his eldest brother Napoleon. At Point Blanc it wasn't uncommon for them to try and hide from punishment. Julius remembered that he had tried to do this when he was younger, before he eventually realised that it was futile. This dream was also based on a real memory, when Napoleon (it was usually Napoleon or Mao who tried to escape) had managed to escape as far as the town only to be collected by Mrs Stellenbosch. He remembered that his father had told him and his brothers to search everywhere that it was possible to hide. Julius found himself going through the large place not being able to find him._

_The size and complexity of the mansion at Point Blanc made the task time consuming. In the dream he would always open the third door to find Alex sitting at a desk pointing a gun at him. It wasn't long before he realised that he was seeing their first encounter at Alex's school from Alex's perspective. This dream was the only one that he woke up from screaming. Julius was his father's clone, he wasn't Alex. It was evidence that he was quickly losing his mind._

* * *

Julius Grief didn't know how long he had been kept hostage but he no longer really cared. He was being fed and sheltered for free. He was however, forced to do belittling household chores and he hadn't seen the light of day in so long. They knew a boy of his potential was beyond making beds and doing laundry but he held back rage. When he wasn't supervised by the two Arab brothers that kicked him, there were three other brothers and a metre wide veiled creature that Julius presumed was their mother. It was a long time since he had already concluded that they were attempting to give him Stockholm Syndrome.

Lying on what he now considered to be his bed, Julius began to whistle tunes to amuse himself. He started with a simple Mozart's ninth symphony and went into his favourite parts of Handel's Messiah. Both were equally his all-time favourite pieces of music, though he had to admit he like the ninth symphony better due to Handel's Messiah having religious connotations. It was a million times better than the disgusting pop music played occasionally by the members of the household, especially the dreaded Justin Bieber or One Direction. He was glad that only the girl liked them and that her brothers made her turn it off when they were home.

The light flickered on and the door slowly creaked open. Julius expected the girl, who usually came to collect the clothes he had finished washing and replace it with a basket full of dirty crap but it wasn't. Julius watched as ten boys came down the staircase, the five brothers and five of their friends. Most of them seemed older than him, especially the elder brothers but it could also be because of having hard lives. Julius wondered what they could possibly want from him, obviously something big if they had started to use more intimidation tactics. Or they were planning to kill him and needed more manpower. Either way, it wasn't in his nature to fear other people.

Julius sat up. He would have stood up to greet them if his right wrist wasn't chained up to the fridge. They kept him chained up at all times, usually by his arms. Julius resented this.

The eldest of the brothers began to speak, "Alien, we have a task for you and you will do it or else you want to die."

If given the choice, Julius would have gone on a rant about how his name wasn't Alien but this wasn't the time.

"Is there a choice?" Julius blatantly replied. This was accompanied by four of them laughing instantly followed shortly by the others; obviously not all of them fully understood English.

One of the other boys stated, "No, what the fuck were you thinking?"

This was accompanied by a sharp kick to the leg and a slap on the left side of his face.

"You are coming with us on a quest. We have wanted someone of your skills to help us with our burglary. If you ever try to betray us you will be killed. We have bought off police interference for only one night this week."

Julius had no objection to this; anything was a good excuse to see the outside world once again. Besides, a 'quest' sounded like fun. There was always the possibility of being able to escape and going back to the freedom he relished. He didn't want to reply.

The leader had resumed talking, "Yes or no?"

"Fine."

There was another kick. They were just looking any for excuse to kick him.

"What was that for?"

"You didn't respond with either yes or no!"

"Yes, then."

"Now, you will be under our direction at all times, so listen. My name is Mohammed, so call me by that name."

'_Mohammed, what an original name!'_ Julius thought sarcastically.

Mohammed the leader then spoke orders to the others in their own language. Two of them removed the chains around his wrist.

"Oh, and another thing, maybe I should have started with this," Mohammed continued, "We know about your history with SCORPIA and that there is a witch-hunt for you. You should be pleased to know that we are enemies of SCORPIA too."

Julius found himself smiling a little; maybe this wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

_A/N: I know that this fanfic isn't as popular as my others but I still want to gradually finish it. Reviews are always welcome as long as they are not flames. It's been a little while since I've read Scorpia Rising so if there are bits that contradict just tell me. Is it just me or does Julius kinda remind me of Alex off A Clockwork Orange? Maybe it is just me. _


	8. Flight

It was only three hours into the flight between London to Cairo and Napoleon was already bored out of his mind. He was finally on his way to Cairo. It beat staying in a juvenile correctional facility any day.

He didn't want to admit that he was nervous but he was. He was coming here to find his brother, Julius. A brother he hated. He had no idea how it would all turn out.

Napoleon was sitting in a window seat next to a woman wearing a green hijab. He made a deliberate effort to ignore her as he wasn't interested in talking to anyone and besides, MI6 wouldn't want him to open his mouth. He thought about taking out his iPod and using it before realising that the music on it was chosen by MI6 – it would be music that would be normal for a teenager and probably all songs he hated.

"So," the woman said in a bored tone, "Why are you going to Cairo?"

"I'm visiting family." Was the first thing that came out of his mouth before thinking.

"Really," she said, "What do they do?"

It was clear by her expression that she wasn't really interested in talking to him. She, like most girls found him repulsive. It didn't matter whether he was a handsome Felix Johnson or plain Napoleon Grief, they just didn't like him. It was like he had a bad smell or rather they could sense his 'aura'.

Lying was natural to Napoleon, "My uncle's a diplomat. Why are you going to Cairo?"

"I have just completed my medical degree from Oxford," She said with pride, "I'm taking another plane to Uganda to do aide work."

"That's cool." He sounded like a boring teenager.

Their conversation ended dead after that. Neither of them wanted to talk anyway.

He looked out onto the clouds and his thoughts began to wander. His thoughts turned to Julius. He remembered how Julius used to act.

'_Napoleon's such a loser! Dad beat him up earlier because he forgot to reload his revolver during training.'_

A familiar feeling of anger swept over him. If MI6 were going to make him kill Julius, he knew he would have no second thoughts about it. Even though he was the youngest, Julius was also the most cruel.

* * *

_A/N: Just a short chapter. I'm procrastinating work that I should do. I also haven't updated in a while._


	9. Wolf, Napoleon and a Spy Car

_Burrrr! Burrrr! Burrr!_

Abdul-Aziz Al-Rahim hated to be interrupted during breakfast but seeming that it was the handheld transceiver that went directly to one of his top men, Yaqoob Shenouda, he made the effort to pick it up.

"Good morning Rahim, we have news relating to the boy."

"Really? What is it?"

"An informant has leaked that they are sending another one of Dr Grief's clones to help find him."

Rahim pensively put his hand on his mouth; this was an interesting turn for MI6. He presumed that they were about as lost looking for the boy as he was.

He switched the handheld to his other hand and continued, "MI6 is going down a strange path. Do you know which one?"

"Not as yet, but we have suspicions that it is one of the elder boys - maybe one of the first five Napoleon, Franco, Mussolini, Castro or Lenin."

"Suspicions based on what? No matter, Order 9."

Rahim then hung up. He was fuming; he wanted the boy before MI6 at any cost. He went back to his usual morning routine. He ate egg on toast for breakfast every morning, if nobody knew any better, they would presume that he was a normal human being.

* * *

As Napoleon Grief stepped out onto Cairo International Airport he couldn't help but scrunch up his nose. It was busy in the airport; the hustle and bustle of people concealed him well. He watched as women passed by him completely dressed in veils while the men around him wore whatever they pleased.

He scoffed. He had no interest in the Arabic people around him or their culture. His father had brought him up to believe wholeheartedly in the superiority of the white man. It wasn't a personal belief that would die without a fight.

Napoleon looked around for the person sent to pick him up. He was told that there would be someone waiting for him holding out a sign with 'Leon Griffith' written on it. Napoleon rolled his eyes, a lame play on his real name. The British had a bad sense of humour.

It was about fifteen minutes before he spotted the sign. It was held by a short man with olive skin. Napoleon guessed that he was mixed race, definitely part African. He definitely looked like he was militant; he had cropped hair, was well built and wore the most plain of clothes. He looked out of place around corporate suits, Arabic dress sense and tourists.

Napoleon walked up to him with his luggage. It was time to utter the phrase that MI6 told him, "Did my uncle send for you? My uncle Gregory."

"Yes. Come on." The man took good look at Napoleon then beckoned him forward with a swift hand wave.

He followed the man out onto the airport parking lot and to the man's car. It was a brown Volkswagen beetle, a more modern version.

"Couldn't they have given me a limousine? Seriously. I'm supposed to be the nephew of a millionaire. This could blow my cover."

The man snickered, "Nope, your life isn't that important. Now open the back and put your stuff in."

His luggage was light but Napoleon acted like it was so heavy, lugging it there as slow as he could. He was determined to irritate this man as much as he possibly could. It looked like it was working but it was hard to tell how much underneath those glasses.

"We haven't got all day, sunshine. Hurry up."

Napoleon eventually put his small suitcase in the tiny boot of the beetle and slammed it shut. They quickly got into the car. It was warm day and which made the car putrid inside. The smallness of the beetle was claustrophobic. Napoleon was used to being in big cars.

"Thanks so, so very much for helping me with the luggage."

"Anytime. If you've scratched my car, I'll kick your ass."

"Wow, you must be a really big man to own a beetle."

"It's better than anything you could ever afford. I hear they're placing you in a foster home after this, that's if you are still alive. Besides, you know what they say about guys with big flashy cars."

"No, please do enlighten me," Napoleon responded with usual despondent sarcasm, "Now let's get going, boy. I'm hot."

This enraged him, "_I _am a grown man! _You_ are a boy! I refuse to be insulted by a freak of nature with no soul!"

Napoleon scoffed, "I refuse to be insulted by a person of colour. Anyway, why were you told about my father and my brothers? Our case is highly sensitive."

"I was a part of the SAS Unit that raided Point Blanc and I knew Alex," The man said, he sounded genuinely upset.

Napoleon liked this man even less, "What? The boy who killed my father? You knew him?"

"He was doing what MI6 would have wanted him to do. He was a really nice kid. He didn't deserve what happened to him."

Napoleon was surprised; this man was genuinely upset by what happened to Alex Rider. He fell silent. He knew it would be unwise to say anything about Alex, unless he wanted the man to hit him.

Both of them were quiet as the man started the car and drove out of the car park. Egypt was already like nowhere he had ever been, regardless of the fact that he hadn't seen too many places in his life.

"So, are you just going to drop me off?" Napoleon asked, he was eager to know when he could get rid of the man, "What's going on?"

"I am driving you to the embassy. You are going to give us information and afterwards, I am taking you to the hotel. The same thing will happen tomorrow and the next day. We have some idea where Julius is now and who has taken him in. He must be caught as soon as possible. We need to know more about him."

Napoleon shrugged, anything was better spending his life in the youth detention centre and adult prison later on. He also hoped that MI6 would keep their end of the bargain. He wanted money and a new identity out of this. He didn't care about much else.

"Where will you go?"

"I am going to be you new babysitter. You can call me Wolf - I use that name a lot. I am here to make sure you don't run away or cause trouble. It's nearly one thirty, it's time for you to take the happy pills they gave you. I have some in the back with a water bottle."

He groaned, he was stuck with this man. Not only that, Napoleon would be treated like a child. He grudgingly shifted to get the water bottle and his medications out of the back. Like always, it was a struggle to get them down. He was sick of taking them but they were a part of the agreement he made with the authorities and psychiatrists. They made him feel drowsy and spaced out but he had to admit that they made him a better person.

He didn't bother try hold some sort of conversation with Wolf. Instead, he just sat there thinking about what he was going to do. He knew he should just follow orders, but for how long? Would MI6 suck him in to do something else? He did not know. He thought it would be wiser to just look out the window and watch traffic and people go by. Cairo was an interesting place, the sights and sounds. It was a city as big and busy as any other.

Wolf turned on some music. It turned out that Wolf was a big fan of Reggae music. He hated the drum beats and the general style of the music. When his medications kicked in the music had a hypnotic, almost surreal effect. It was not good.

"Clone Boy, how much older are you than Julius?" Wolf asked, Napoleon almost didn't hear him. Normally, somebody who would have called him 'Clone Boy' would have received a full verbal lashing but Napoleon was too relaxed and confused to care.

"I am not completely sure; father didn't share those records with us. I'm approximately two to three years older."

"So you never knew your birthdays? None of you had birthday parties? No birthday cakes? No presents? Damn."

"No," Napoleon replied.

Wolf shrugged and fell silent.

After sometime Wolf spoke again, "I think that white van has been following us closely for a while. I might take a left."

Napoleon was too drugged to notice anything like that. Wolf spun the car sharply. Napoleon was pulled sideways then back down again with the recoiling of his seatbelt. Under great force, the belt almost had the sharpness of a whip. Wolf turned into a small alleyway as an attempt to be avoided. The car was just small enough to pass through without causing damage.

The white van was following them after all. It took a sharp turn but ended up smashing into the wall with a loud bang. Despite this, it kept on going. It came towards them with full force, sending rubbish bins and other items flying in the pursuit of catching them.

Worst of all, was the loud screeching sound that was produced by sides of the van making contact with the brick walls. The windows were smashed open, which revealed that there were two male drivers.

Wolf turned into another alley way and put his foot down on the accelerator.

The van also turned. In the rear vision mirror, there was a mangled pile of metal screeching its way towards them. It was coming for them no matter what. The men had even brought out guns.

Wolf brought out a gun, "Put your head down. Some people don't know when to quit. I don't know who they are, but they obviously aren't very bright. Who would honestly, purposely wreck a vehicle like that? That's absolutely stupid."

"Do you have another gun? I'm good at shooting."

"No, this is just in case."

There were gun fires but none broke the back window.

"The glass has a diamond covering, they'd have to have pretty strong bullets to hit through this marvellous car," Wolf explained, "Now hold tight."

Wolf made another turn and was now going full speed at a brick wall.

Napoleon started screaming hysterically, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING!? WE'RE GOING TO DIE! STOP! STOP! STOP! STOP! STOP!"

Wolf just laughed. He was mad. There was no way out. Napoleon closed his eyes.

Suddenly it felt like he was flipped sideways. He opened his eyes; they were actually driving on the street walls to get away from the van. They were driving on bricks, not concrete.

"What the?" Napoleon began.

Wolf laughed wholeheartedly, "Cool, huh? These tires are fitted with super adhesive, the kind of stuff that was inspired by gecko feet. Ha! I should phone Smithers tonight to tell him that I'm now in love him. Still think beetles are for pussies, Clone Boy?"

* * *

He was not telling the complete truth when he told Wolf that they did not know their birthdays. On a certain day of the year, either his father or Mrs Stellenbosch would tell them that they were now such an age and give them either a small toy or a sugary treat. However, they never had birthday parties or had any kind of celebration. Most had learnt the hard way not to boast about what they got, it was always either stolen or destroyed by another boy. That was the reason why Napoleon stole Julius' toy train all those years ago.

For this reason, most boys never revealed their birthday to the others. It was a secret, as was the small individual attention they got each year. He did manage to work out some of the other boy's birthdays though. He knew some of his brothers' birthdays but he never found out the others. It usually depended on how much he liked them. His own was October 26.

He remembered on his seventh birthday his father gave him a small notebook. He looked at it confused. He had no idea what to do with it.

When his father put it in his hands he said, "Write whatever you want in it. I will never know what is written in it. Only you know about this."

Napoleon looked at his father confused; he had no idea why he was asked this. Dr Grief always wanted to know what the boys were doing. He looked up to see his father gleaming at him through his red coloured lenses.

When looked at you, it was like being honed in on by spotlights. All his childhood he wondered what the world looked like to his father, a world stained red. Dr Grief often told them it was a habit he developed from going to safari; he could concentrate on finding and aiming at the animals quicker with the red glasses. For a long time Napoleon believed this was true, all of them thought their father was indestructible and all-powerful. When he was older Napoleon realised that it was probably for the same reason why he and the other boys preferred glasses, they were light sensitive.

Napoleon looked at the book wondering what to write in there. It looked like an ordinary notebook, pitch black cover with blue ruled lines on the inside.

"Thank you, Pa."

"Now, because it is your birthday you can spend the afternoon either reading or playing with toys."

His father then walked out, leaving Napoleon alone. He started writing in the small book straight away. He decided it would be a small book for all the stories he would come up with in his head. He remembered writing a story about a boy who was shot out into outer space and couldn't get back home. One was about a cat that could make its owner do whatever it wanted through mind control. Another was about a girl called Ruby Roo who could set things on fire with laser vision and as he had never known any real girls, he made her interests include trains, shooting and braiding flowers in her hair. They were lame, silly stories but he enjoyed creating them.

He enjoyed this immensely, escaping from his strict reality, but it wouldn't last long. A couple of weeks after, Mrs Stellenbosch walked past him reading a book about different types of insects.

She began smiling at him in an endearing but patronising way, "You are a very funny boy, Napoleon. Always writing stories in that book of yours but you never read any fiction. Your father likes the story about the cat."

She then laughed. This hit Napoleon like a stack of bricks. Those were his individual thoughts, something that was precious to him. It was a simple betrayal but it had a strong effect on him. From then on, he never really trusted his father again. Nor anyone else. Not even his favourite brothers.

He did the same thing to his brothers as well, only they were different. Mussolini showed him the pictures he drew in his. Napoleon considered this strange; their father placed little value in art. They were always doing either academic classes, sports, practical skills such as driving and shooting or practising imitating their father. There was no time for art, except as a part of appreciating European culture.

He looked at Mussolini's pictures with a frown. They all depicted scenery around Point Blanc. They weren't bad for a kid but would probably get him into trouble.

"Why did you draw these?" He demanded.

Muse shrugged, "Because I wanted to."

"Dad might get mad at you."

"But he said I could do whatever I wanted with it, Leo."

"Dad thinks drawing is a waste of time."

They were all supposed to be like their father in every way. They were like his twins, they had the same genes. Dr Grief was even careful to stimulate his own upbringing on them; Point Blanc was made as similar as possible to the remote South African orphanage that he had spent the first fourteen years of his life. They were treated the same as he was.

Dr Grief attributed variations to the group dynamics between the clones, their birth order and the way they got along with each other. For a first born, Napoleon was less assertive, less motivated and more rebellious than what was expected. Most of them were introverts like Dr Grief but Julius, Castro and Genghis were obvious extroverts. They tended to have different roles, hobbies and interests like Mao the poet, Castro the entertainer, Stalin the scientist, Brutus the computer wizard and Lenin the athletic.

The diaries were a psychological experiment, to see where their natural inclinations were. He did a lot of experiment on them. He wrote a lot of records, most Napoleon assumed were now in the custody of authorities. Other scientist would read them and use the knowledge contained inside, learn Dr Grief's secrets. Then use those secrets for their own benefit.

Napoleon wasn't completely sure their differences could be easily, bluntly explained by science. He wondered if there was something more. The idea of people being more than body and mind was appealing to Napoleon.

While he was living with the Johnsons under the guise of Felix Johnson, he remembered a night when little Alannah Johnson knocked on his door late at night. Something she rarely did.

He opened the door to find her clutching onto her blanket.

"What's wrong? Are you sick again?"

"No, I'm scared. Can I stay with you for a while?"

"No, why are you scared?"

"There was a shadow, I think it is Felix. He won't leave me alone. I think he's sorry for what he did and he tells me that he wasted his life when he had so much opportunity."

"Don't be stupid, there's no such thing as ghosts. How can he talk to you? Your brother can't be dead."

"How can you be so sure? I can sense him; I think I can feel what he wants me to know."

"Because, there is no scientific evidence."

Napoleon held her hand while walking her back to her room. He told her she would be alright and that if she told it to leave it would. She didn't have this problem again. The most interesting part was that the next day his father called him to say that the real Felix Johnson had died the previous day in Point Blanc, from pneumonia.

There was more to people than being just biological robots. If ghosts - and by extension souls - were real, maybe his father was watching him. Napoleon didn't like to think about it. What would he say if he found out what he was doing now? About Napoleon abandoning his schemes? He could be out there, but unlike Alannah; he would be unable to hear him.


End file.
